Callie Hutton

by The Elusive Wife

  Chapter Ten

  Olivia reclined in the tub, enjoying the relaxation of the warm, scented water. In the letter from her solicitors, they’d assured her a generous settlement would be arranged when Parliament granted the annulment. Olivia squeezed the cloth to allow the water to dribble down her extended leg. With Coventry’s money and the legacy from her father, she could continue her studies in music, which would most likely mean returning to Italy. Or she could purchase a small home here in London, but the endless rounds of parties, balls, and routs year in and year out did not appeal. Neither did the foul air and crowds of the city.

  Of course, she could consider an offer from one of the gentlemen who gathered around her each evening. Not having any male family members, she would be the one to accept or decline any offers made. She smiled as she imagined sending prospective suitors to Jason for his yay or nay on offers. He could also negotiate the settlements on her behalf.

  Olivia sighed, and gazed out the window across the room, at the billowing clouds drifting by. Unfortunately, of all her suitors, the only one who fired her blood, and brought heightened awareness of his presence, was the husband who didn’t want her. She swallowed the hurt, and stepped out of the tub to dry off. Not used to being naked in front of anyone else, she didn’t utilize the services of her maid to assist in her bath. She had done for herself most of her life, anyway. She slid into a dressing gown and sat in front of the fireplace, drying her hair.

  As always, her thoughts returned to her predicament with Lord Coventry. How would they have progressed if he hadn’t left her the morning after their wedding? As he seemed to be attracted to her now, they could have gone on quite well. She imagined him bedding her. With all his experience, no doubt it would be a pleasurable experience. Then she chided herself. Despite the longing she felt in his presence, with their history she had no intention of encouraging his advances. The further she kept herself from Lord Arrogant, the better for her state of mind.

  Setting her concerns aside, she rang for the maid to assist her with dressing for another undoubtedly long and uninteresting evening. Lord and Lady Banbury would be their hosts tonight for a musicale. Notwithstanding her feeble attempt to convince Elizabeth that she’d prefer to remain at home with a good book, the disappointment on her friend’s face had quickly persuaded her to change her mind.

  The Banbury musicale was immensely better than Olivia had expected. She sat in the front row, allowing the soothing music to float over her. Three professional musicians hired for the evening had performed several familiar pieces. After a short intermission, a few young ladies followed, displaying their skills on the pianoforte, harp and flute. Unfortunately, Olivia found little of that music particularly gratifying to her trained ear.

  “Lady Banbury.” Sitting next to Olivia, Elizabeth raised her hand to get their hostess’s attention as Lady Mary Alice left the platform. “Lady Olivia should be encouraged to play for us. She’s quite talented.”

  Olivia flushed and turned to Elizabeth. “Please, no. I haven’t played in weeks.”

  Elizabeth leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “It doesn’t matter, dearest, you know that. Don’t be silly.”

  “My dear, I insist you play for us,” Lady Banbury came to stand in front of Olivia, taking her hand. “Please, we would love to hear you, wouldn’t we?” She turned and addressed the crowd, who with a smattering of applause and murmurs, indicated their somewhat reluctant agreement. Undoubtedly the audience had reached their tolerance of amateur performances, but Elizabeth nudged her from behind, and Lady Banbury pulled her toward the front of the room.

  As she settled at the pianoforte, she ran through various pieces in her mind she could play from memory. The crowd continued to talk, their restlessness making Olivia nervous. She really didn’t think anyone was going to be receptive to her performance, but decided on Beethoven’s Quasi una fantasia, which started out pleasant and slow, then turned into one of the most beautiful pieces she’d ever played.

  Only about fifteen seconds into the piece, she lost herself and became part of the music. There was no longer an audience, no Banbury music room, no father who emotionally abandoned her, no problems with a husband who didn’t want her. The room grew quiet as the upper crust of London society sat in mesmerized silence while Olivia’s fingers glided over the keys, wringing from the instrument a sensual response of sustained pleasure.

  …

  Jason sat restlessly at the back of the room, bored as usual at these affairs. His desire to once again see Lady Olivia made his brief appearance a necessity. She now sat up in the front with Lady Lansdowne and—his nostrils flared—Lord Carstairs. Hopefully the wretched performances would soon cease and he could take the opportunity to speak with her.

  He was about to breathe a sigh of relief as it became apparent the musicale was at an end, when Lady Lansdowne suggested Lady Olivia play. His attention immediately engaged, he watched Olivia take her place at the pianoforte. She’d dressed in a light lavender gown, with a darker violet ribbon under her breasts before the gown fell in soft folds to the floor. He felt his groin tighten as she sat, smoothing the gown over her lovely derriere. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as she began to play.

  After a minute or so, he moved forward, concentrating on the vision of loveliness that was Lady Olivia, with her lips pursed in concentration as she mesmerized the gathering with her expertise. The woman was truly remarkable, extremely talented. The audience stopped talking as each and every one focused on the beautiful woman playing from her heart.

  Staring at her from this angle, able to view only her profile, he felt a vague sense of recognition. Something about the image tugged at his memory. He closed his eyes briefly and let the music wash over him as he tried to capture the vision he sought.

  The haunting music came to an end and he opened his eyes to look at her as she turned to the audience. Her eyes met his, her beautiful violet eyes, shimmering with tears.

  Jason felt as though a bolt of lightning had slammed into him. His mouth went completely dry and his heart sped up. Various voices ran chaotically through his mind.

  She plays like an angel.

  Yes, my lord, this is my first Season.

  I traveled with my father.

  Your father’s will states you must marry Lady Jane Grant, who has been living with her father in Italy.

  Lady Olivia Grant, my lord.

  Bloody hell! That vixen I’ve been panting after is my very own wife.

  Goddamn it!

  Jason stood abruptly, so fast the blood didn’t have time to catch up to his brain, and he swayed. Taking a deep breath, he left the room and headed out the front door. Striding to his carriage, he jumped in and instructed the driver to take him to Drake’s house.

  …

  Olivia stood as the enthusiastic applause from the crowd drifted over her. Tears filled her eyes, her emotions running high. How she missed her music. It had kept her company for so many years when no one else had. The weeks she had spent at Coventry Manor had become bearable because of the enjoyment she had felt when her fingers flew over the keys, releasing anxiety, anger, and sorrow.

  She caught Elizabeth’s face and smiled. From there, her gaze wandered the room to where Jason sat and her smile faltered.

  His nostrils were flared and his jaw clenched. His face was a sickly white and he appeared to actually stumble as he stood. He radiated anger like she had never seen on anyone, and she actually moved back a step, even though he stood a roomful of people away from her. Breathing deeply, he fisted his hands at his side, turned, and left the room.

  What could be the matter? Has he finally recognized me?

  She sighed in relief as he departed, but a confrontation with Lord Arrogant was definitely in her future. Lifting her chin, she told herself she was ready.

  …

  Jason stormed into the library of Stafford’s townhome and stopped, feet braced apart, his hands fisted at his sides. “Damnit, Drake, it’s h
er.” He glared at his best friend.

  Drake put aside his book. “Who is her?”

  “Lady Olivia,” Jason growled.

  “You’re not making sense. Who or what is Lady Olivia?”

  Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “Follow along, man. Elizabeth’s esteemed house guest, the lovely Lady Olivia, is none other than Lady Jane Grant. My wife!”

  Drake stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack. “Lady Jane and Lady Olivia are one and the same?”

  Jason nodded, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. Never in his life had he been made such a fool.

  Drake grinned. “Let’s see if I understand this. For weeks you’ve been twisted in knots trying to find a mysterious woman. You had no idea when she arrived in town, who she was staying with, and even what she looked like. Were you to find this elusive woman, you intended to coerce her into an annulment—not sure you even had grounds for one—so you could pursue the lady, it turns out, you are already married to. Does that about cover it?” Drake threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  In a flash, Jason blindly struck out, his fist landing square on his friend’s chin. Drake and the chair tumbled backwards, feet up in the air.

  Rubbing his knuckles, Jason almost removed the door from its frame as he flung it open to leave the room.

  “I guess I got it right,” Drake called after him.

  Jason raced down the steps, trying to control the palpable anger that roared through him.

  To think all this time she’d been right under his nose, and never gave any indication as to her identity. He’d been made a fool of, and that didn’t sit well. Apparently the Lansdownes were in on the subterfuge, too. Well, he’d have a lot to say to Lord Lansdowne the next time they crossed paths. Lansdowne keeping his wife hidden from him fired Jason up almost as much as Lady Olivia’s deceit.

  He angrily dismissed any guilt that attempted to rear its ugly head. What he’d done was not gentlemanly, but the anger he felt for her standing there each time they met, pretending to be someone else, almost choked him.

  So sweet and demure, not batting an eye when he made an arse of himself fawning all over her. And just what did she think she was doing flirting with London’s known rakes and accepting dances with all and sundry? And Carstairs looking down her gown at the opera. The next time he saw the man he’d make sure his eyes wouldn’t be capable of looking down any woman’s gown for quite a while.

  Jason suppressed the urge to immediately confront Lady Olivia—Lady Coventry—he corrected. Instead, he went home and got roaring drunk, thinking of all the things he would say to her tomorrow night at the Beresford ball.

  Sleep well, my lovely, for soon we will meet.

  Chapter Eleven

  After greeting his hosts, Jason descended the steps of the immense ballroom and searched the crowd. His gaze immediately rested on Olivia. She looked magnificent in a silk gown the color of a rich claret wine. The slightly gathered bodice fashioned low enough to allow her superb cleavage to show to advantage. The band under her breasts and along the bottom of the small cap sleeves was a deep rose. The gown fell in soft folds, barely covering her rose slippers. A wide diamond necklace, close to her throat, caught the light of hundreds of candles. The curls of her rich black hair gathered on the top of her head, with wisps gently swaying at her temples. Small diamond earrings glittered from each delicate lobe. She took his breath away.

  And she’s all mine.

  The ruse was up. He would tell her tonight he knew of her game and demand she move out of the Lansdowne townhome and take up residence where she belonged, at Coventry House. His blood pumped, imagining her glorious hair spread over his pillow, violet eyes smoldering with passion as he ran his hands over her delectable body, discovering every sensitive spot with his lips.

  The musicians finished tuning up, and strands of the first waltz caught the attention of the crowd. Completely focused on one woman, Jason strode through the gathering, ignoring the ladies who casted their gaze in his direction from behind painted fans. He managed to reach Olivia before her partner did. Bowing slightly, he caught her by the hand and led her to the dance floor.

  “Excuse me, my lord, but this is not your dance.” Olivia gently tugged her hand free.

  He retrieved her hand with anger flashing in his eyes. “Indeed it is, Lady Coventry.” Jason glowered at Lord Fairfax as the dandy walked up and attempted to claim Olivia. One look, and Fairfax dropped his hand and backed up.

  Jason turned her in his arms and the waltz began. Olivia raised her chin and kept her eyes fixed on a spot to the left of his shoulder. He watched her like a cat with a mouse, his eyes narrowed, his lips compressed. And his blood pumped to the area most affected by the warm scent of lavender coming from her hair. Lavender!

  “You look lovely tonight, Lady Jane.” He leaned close to her ear.

  Olivia’s eyes flashed and her cheeks pinked. “So you know. Congratulations on your intuitiveness. It’s only taken you weeks to recognize me,” she snapped. She attempted to pull away from him, but he held fast, bringing her snug against his body.

  “I can’t breathe, my lord.”

  He loosened his hold. “Don’t think to walk away from me, my dear. We will finish this dance and then we will take a stroll in the gardens. In the meantime you will smile and act as though this dance is the most wonderful of your life.”

  “And why in heaven’s name would I do that?”

  “Because, my love, the entire ton is watching, and we don’t want to give them any reason to gossip, do we?”

  Olivia averted her head slightly, studying the intricate knot of his cravat, her spine as stiff as a board.

  The last notes had barely faded away when he placed her palm on his arm, covering her hand with his. “A stroll in the garden, Lady Olivia?” he said loud enough for all in the vicinity to hear.

  Olivia smiled graciously and said under her breath, “Go to Hades, my lord.”

  “Ah, so it begins,” he countered.

  …

  Olivia’s nerves had coiled tight as a bow all day, wondering if Jason’s abrupt departure the evening before truly did have something to do with her subterfuge. She’d spent a great deal of time choosing the right gown and accessories to meet her adversary. Confidence in herself had strengthened when she had viewed her reflection in her mirror.

  But now that she actually faced him, the shock and anger at his easy reference to her correct name had her hand itching to slap his arrogant face. Why the reason for this walk and what were his intentions?

  They meandered along the garden path, nodding at other strollers. Eventually Jason turned her onto a trail leading away from the house. They walked for several minutes, not passing anyone, when he led her to a small stone bench. After she sat, he faced her, resting his foot on the bench, leaning his elbow on his knee.

  She looked up at him, and her heart began to beat so strongly she was sure he could hear it. He looked so male, so much a predator. She sensed waves of a strong emotion coming off his body. Not able to hold her tongue any longer, lest she pass out from tension, she began the battle.

  “What is it you wish to say to me, my lord?”

  “You made a fool of me, madam.” He spoke with quiet emphasis.

  She raised her chin. “Indeed? May I remind you of your condition at our wedding? Any appearance of foolishness remains solely on your part, my lord.”

  Jason shifted, and then resting his palms on the bench, on either side of her hips, leaned over her. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “One better, my lord.” She tilted her head back to put more distance between them. “Why didn’t you know who I was?”

  He stood and ran stiff fingers through his hair. “I didn’t remember you because I was drunk.”

  “Ah.” She breathed out the word. “Your state of inebriation at our wedding spoke volumes of your respect for me, and the vows you spoke.”

  “I didn’t know you then.”

 
She rose and attempted to move around him. “You don’t know me now, my lord.”

  He grasped her forearm and leaned close. “I insist you move your things out of Lord Lansdowne’s home and into Coventry House. I’ll send a carriage ’round in the morning.”

  Olivia watched him, her eyes growing wider, her eyebrows arching upward. “Excuse me, sir, but I will do no such thing.”

  “You are my wife, Olivia, and you will move into my house.” The muscle in his jaw worked.

  Her eyes flashed. “I did not give you leave to call me by my given name. And if memory serves, my lord, I am your wife no longer, since you have petitioned for an annulment.” She could not believe the man’s arrogance. As if she would merely collapse into his arms with gratitude and weep with appreciation.

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “There will be no annulment.”

  “I have already signed the consent form and sent it to my solicitors.” She girded herself with resolve.

  “There will be no annulment. Not now, not ever. You will move into my home tomorrow.”

  “How dare you! You think I’m some sort of puppet to be put here, then put there, discarded, then taken up again?” Before even thinking, she raised her hand and slapped him in the face. “I hate you. I will never move into your house, or even speak to you, ever again.” She turned and walked briskly back to the house.

  Olivia attempted to calm her racing heart before entering the ballroom. It wouldn’t do to appear agitated. She and Jason may have been noticed leaving together, and gossip would ensue if she returned in a frantic state by herself.

  She rubbed her hands together to reduce the sting to her palm, felt right through her glove. Never in her entire life had she lost control like that. Oh, the man was arrogant. To simply order her to move into his home and take up wifely duties. Well, she had no intention of moving into Coventry House. Once the annulment came through, she would leave London and return to Italy.

  …

  Jason rubbed his face and sat on the stone bench.

  That went well, didn’t it?